Regalia
by Amelie Nockturne
Summary: Because in a highly militaristic country such as Amestris, isn't it a little odd that a certain State Alchemist is allowed to break dress code? And in that obnoxious red coat, of all things.


**"Fullmetal, you do realize that you're a signed member of the military of Amestris now."**

"Yeah. What of it?" The young alchemist was lounging in one of the couches in the office, lazily flipping through the day's newspaper.

"And, as a member of the military- a State Alchemist, no less- you're required to follow all of the rules and regulations set forth by-"

"Yeah yeah, don't piss off people with power, go run errands for you and write dumbass reports, yadda yadda. Your point?"

"My point," Colonel Mustang was quickly losing patience, "is that one of those rules is a uniform. You're required to wear it anytime you're on military business or when you're at headquarters."

"You mean that huge freaking coat and all? No way. My outfit's just fine. And stylish too." Finished with the newspaper, he'd sat up and was gesturing to his obnoxiously red coat and leather clothing.

"This isn't optional, Fullmetal." His teeth were gritted and he was _this close _to crisping that stupid outfit. "We already let you slack on your hair length, and you're even allowed to bring Alphonse, technically a civilian, into meetings and things with you. It's simply unheard of. Just because you're a little kid doesn't mean the upper ranks will cut you any more slack."

"LITTLE KID?! I'LL SHOW YOU LITTLE YOU-"

"Can it, Edward. There's no reason to argue. I have to stop by the uniform room today anyway to pick up a new dress shirt, so I'll also get you a uniform of your own. Once I give it to you, though, I expect you to wear it. Understood?" Ed, still fuming from the "little" comment, grunted noncommittally.

"Whatever. Is there something else you wanted me to do? Because I was supposed to meet Al at the archives branch a couple'a minutes ago." Mustang sighed, knowing that attempts to continue the conversation would all be in vain.

"No, there's nothing more. You're dismissed."

* * *

"Back again, Colonel? It was just last week you were here for new pants after you burned-"

"Yes, I'm aware." That was one experience he _definitely _wanted to forget. "But I need a new dress shirt for the military ball coming up in a few weeks. I placed a request claim about a week ago."

"Hmm, yeah, I think I remember that one. You actually goin' to the ball this year? Gonna bring a lucky lady with ya?" Billings was too old to actively fight anymore, but he worked in uniform distribution and was always bumbling around headquarters. Frankly, Mustang was quite surprised to find the Sergeant Major in his assigned post.

"No, I'll be going alone. I've been unable to attend the past few years and figured I should probably go this year." Mustang decided not to voice how much he was truly dreading the ball night. Billings nodded, rummaging around in some boxes and looking through the various articles requested by military enlistees. "Hrm... Lynder, Marthrope, McClubbins, Mostram... here it is! Roy Mustang. Well, there ya go, Colonel. "'S that all?"

"Oh, actually, I need another uniform. A full one, if you have any spares."

"Hm, well, I'm not sure if there're any left in your size, sir. We had initiation day not too long ago, and-"

"Not one in my size. I'm looking for something for my subordinate, the Fullmetal Alchemist." Billings nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, I was wonderin' when they'd finally come down on that bright red coat'a his. Lemme look around. He'd be a small, I'm guessing?"

"As small as you can find." Billings methodically dug through the piles of spare uniforms in the room, pulling out a shirt from one, a pair of socks from another.

"Here, that should do the trick. Here you are, Colonel. Small in everything." Roy held out his arms, already somewhat filled with his own shirt, as they became laden with pants, a jacket, shirts, socks, and finally a pair of shiny black boots. "That all, sir?"

"It should be. Thanks again, Sergeant Major."

"Anytime. And tell that Fullmetal'a yours that his hair's gettin' too long, even if we do let him use the women's regulations. He's gonna hafta keep it pinned up like your lieutenant soon enough."

"Understood," Mustang nodded. "I'll let him know."

* * *

"Fullmetal, there's no way it should take you _this long _to change your clothes. Get out here."

"C'mon, brother. I bet you look, er, handsome," Alphonse snickered, standing beside Mustang's desk.

"Shut up! Have you ever tried doing these freaking buttons with a goddamn automail hand?! I didn't think so!" Came the muffled, albeit still loud, reply from the private office Mustang had let Edward change in.

"Do you need help?"

"Like your huge armor hands could do any better, Al. Besides, I got them eventually." The door creaked open and out stomped a ruffled and very pissy-looking Edward Elric, outfitted in the official royal blue of Amestris.

Mustang bit back a laugh. Alphonse was not so subtle.

"Are you sure they got you the smallest size, brother?" Edward's golden eyes flashed angrily.

The sleeves hung off of his arms, the buttons had been buttoned crookedly so that there was one button remaining at the bottom of the shirt. One hand was holding his pants up, but it really didn't do much, as the pantlegs pooled around the tops of his boots, which appeared at least three sizes too large.

"This reminds me of the time Winry made us play dress-up with her as kids," Alphonse laughed.

"Don't laugh at me, dammit! It's not funny!" Ed shouted, waving around the hand that wasn't holding his pants, the sleeve of the too-large jacket flapping like a flag in the wind. Immediately, the short blonde whirled around to face his commanding officer. "This is your fault, you bastard."

"Language, Fullmetal. And believe it or not, this really isn't my fault. King Bradley himself has set rules so that any signed member of the Amestris military forces is required to be in uniform at all times for identification purposes. I don't think they were keeping tiny twelve-year-olds in mind when they ordered the uniforms."

"TINY?! I'M NOT TINY YOU JERK!" Edward lunged towards Mustang, probably in an attempt to attack him.

It probably would've worked, too, excluding the fact that he tripped over his own boots and faceplanted on the floor, landing with a loud thud. Alphonse was at his brother's side almost immediately, offering a hand, but Edward denied the assistance.

"Very graceful, Edward," Mustang commented dryly. "Now get up and change back into whatever it is that fits you." Ed scrambled up, trying in vain to hide his tomato red face.

"Whatever," the rest of the sentence was mumbled so quietly that the colonel was sure Ed was cussing him out in every way possible.

The door to the makeshift changing room was slammed so hard it rattled on its hinges. Mustang, however, paid no mind to it. The boy was going to have to wear a uniform one way or another, but he'd be no good at all if he couldn't even walk around in the thing- especially considering Fullmetal's tendency to get himself into dangerous situations.

The colonel cursed under his breath. This was going to be a lot more trouble than he'd bargained for.

...

Little did he know, but the thought would come to describe the entirety of his relationship with the Fullmetal Alchemist and his brother.

* * *

**Aaaaaaand that's why Ed gets to wear whatever the hell he wants. Heh, I had SO many ideas on where to take this from here. I might continue it... Thanks for reading!**


End file.
